Turning Tables
by nlizzette7
Summary: Fate has never worked in the favor of Chuck and Blair. Year after year of pain, empty promises, and mistakes has led up to nothing - and it's killing them both. But when Chuck decides to put an end to all of it, the unthinkable happens. Set in Season 6.
1. Chapter One

"Chuck." She'd said his name so many times in her life. _Chuck, please. Chuck, I love you. Goodbye, Chuck. _But this time was different. This time could be the last time. Blair held her breath, nervously clutching at the diamond ring hanging from her neck. It had become an instinctual habit, a reassurance.

She needed that now more than ever.

Chuck took a long sip from his glass before turning to face her. Blair flinched. Around his eyes were dark circles, splotches of blues and purples. His shoulders were hunched forward, and his expression was cold. He wasn't happy to see her.

"What do you want, Blair?" Chuck asked. His eyes were trained on hers, but he couldn't even see her. Blair swallowed back the lump in her throat.

"You haven't been returning my calls. You haven't been… What's going on, Chuck?"

"There can only be one Bass," he whispered. He smiled, but it was empty.

"What are you talking about?" Blair took a seat on the empty stool next to him. She leaned forward, grabbing on to his arm, but he pulled away. He glared at her, and there was this new fire in his eyes. Blair recoiled.

"_There can only be one Bass. _Don't you understand, Blair? My father will _always_ win. I used to think…I used to think that he was the king. That I was some sort of prince, right next to him on the throne."

"Chuck, you aren't making any sense –"

"But now I know. I'm just a meaningless pawn, like so many others. I mean _nothing_. I am _nothing. _The pawn just helps the king win. Then it gets thrown away."

Chuck tipped back the rest of his drink and slammed it against the bar. People were turning to look at them now, and a hush fell across the room. Blair got up, trying to pull Chuck up. But he wouldn't move.

"Chuck, whatever it is, I can _help _you. I made a promise. You made a promise. We can get through this," Blair whispered. She was desperate. This moment was too familiar. They sounded too much like the old Chuck and Blair. The reckless, careless duo that had destroyed everything they touched so long ago. She couldn't let that happen again.

Chuck laughed in her face, pulling his arm away from her again.

"Give it a rest, Blair. Don't you think that we've pushed destiny far enough? Why do you think it never works out? Why do you think that our plans always fall through? It's because _we_ _don't belong together._ There will always be my father, your mother, Humphrey, Serena, Nate. From the beginning, fate was working against us. And now, now I'm tired of fighting it."

"Why are you doing this?" Blair cried, nearly taking his shoulders and shaking him. The whole room was focused on them now. People were whispering all around them. A flash went off, probably another picture for Gossip Girl. But Blair was numb to everything but Chuck. "_Now _you believe in destiny and fate? It's not about that, Chuck. Relationships don't end because a few things go wrong. Relationships end when people end them. So, if that's what you're doing, tell me now. If you're really giving up, then I want to hear you say it."

Chuck paused, meeting her eyes. Tears rolled down Blair's cheeks, and she tried not to panic. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. _Not again, not again, not again._

"Blair," he began. She held her breath. _This is it Chuck_, she thought. _This is it for us. So, please. Please don't say – _"We can't be together. We will never be together."

With that, Chuck turned away from her. He called the bartender for another drink and stared down at his hands.

He didn't look at her again.

They say that when you're faced with an impossible situation, you're forced to choose between f_ight_ or _flight_ – the only two courses of action that your body can prepare itself for in a state of panic. For years, Blair had chosen to fight. _The worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you ever had, I will stand by you through anything. Because I love you._

But Blair Waldorf would never win – not when it came to Chuck. He would never change, not completely. In some ways, he was right. There would always be something. There would always be something pulling him away.

So she ran.

She ran away from him, away from the bar. She kicked off her shoes somewhere along the way. Wind blew back her hair, and her dress tangled up around her legs. She was crying, sobbing. She probably looked like a mad woman. This was it, this was her moment. Chuck could have the last word, but she would be the one to walk away.

"_Blair_!" she heard someone screaming behind her. Chuck. _Not again, not this again._ There he was again, taking back his words. Coming to make the last move. She turned around, still running. He was chasing behind her, through the streets, pushing past the people in his way.

She kept running.

"Blair, please," he cried.

She would not stop.

"Blair, watch out!" he screamed. This time, of all times, she turned around to face him.

She saw Chuck, just Chuck.

Not the headlights pointing straight at her. Not the bus barreling in her direction. Not the people screaming for her to move out of the way.

Impact.

:::

Chuck Bass didn't cry.

But now he was.

He watched as one tear after another hit the ICU's tiled floor. He felt as if he was dreaming, lost in a haze of whiskey and shock. All around him, people were talking, intercoms were buzzing, and nurses were running by. The whole world was moving on, but Chuck was paralyzed. _It was his fault._

It was always his fault.

He'd let Blair go yet again, did something that he hadn't meant _yet again_. He'd gone on and on about fate and destiny getting in their way, trying to put the blame on something that was out of his hands.

But the only thing stopping them from being together was _Chuck_, a self-sabotaging _coward_. At least his father destroyed everything in his path. Chuck was only capable of destroying himself. What good did that really do in the end?

He heard heels clicking on the floor until they stopped right in front of him. For a delusional second, he thought of Blair. That it could be Blair. _Of course not. _Blair was in a deep sleep, in one of the private rooms down the hall. Her face was bruised, and she was bandaged up to stop the bleeding.

_But you should know that there was heavy internal damage as well, Mr. Bass, _the doctor had said. _You should be prepared for the worst._

Chuck shook the words away, glancing up to see the owner of the heels. Serena. Next to her stood a disheveled Dan Humphrey, with that Muppet-like head of hair standing up in all directions. That was per usual. The strange thing was Serena's appearance. Her dress was on backwards, her lips smeared with splotches of lipstick. They both stood with their hands at their sides, but Chuck could see their fingers brushing against each other's.

Disgusting. Blair was so much better than this. Better than all of them.

The silence was deafening. What could be said? They watched each other, none of them wanting to make the first move. They were all criminals here, and they each knew _exactly _what laws had been broken.

"_Chuck, Serena. _Thank God," Eleanor Waldorf huffed, bursting into the room. Cyrus Rose trailed right behind her, carrying her purse. Eleanor snapped the receptionists to attention. "Blair Waldorf. I'm her mother. Get on it._Now._"

"Eleanor," Serena whispered, breaking away from Dan. "She's still unconscious. Dan and I just got here. Chuck, you were with her, weren't you? What happened?"

Chuck coughed, avoiding Eleanor's eyes. He couldn't even bring himself to look right at Brooklyn's castaway. He cleared his throat.

"I…I wasn't there." _Liar._

"She was on her way to meet me when it happened." _Liar._

"I don't really know anything beyond that." _Liar, liar, liar._

Eleanor nodded, turning away to yell at the receptionist. Serena sighed and stumbled away to the coffee machine on the other side of the room. But Humphrey remained where he was, staring at Chuck.

"Can I help you with something, Humphrey?"

"You began to sweat when you were telling us what happened. That's the kind of body language that usually indicates anxiety…and liars," Dan remarked, narrowing his eyes. Chuck stood from his seat, fuming.

"Was your writing so terrible that you had to pick up another trade, Humphrey? Because I can guarantee that you'd make a shitty psychologist, too. Back off."

"Hey, I'm just stating the obvious."

"You're _obviously _mistaken. And who exactly do you think you are, throwing punches here? I'm not the one who came to see my ex-girlfriend after a cheap sleep with her best friend."

"It wasn't – "

"Charles Bass?" the someone called, breaking up the argument. They both turned to the doctor, staring down at his clipboard.

"That's me," Chuck said.

"You're the one who brought her in?"

"Yes."

"Great. It was indicated here that you requested to see her the minute she regained consciousness. You'll be able to see her now."

_Blair. Blair was awake._

Chuck didn't waste a second. He pushed past Humphrey and dashed down the hallway. The doctor went after him, keeping up with his pace a few footsteps behind.

"Mr. Bass, wait just a minute," the doctor called after him.

_Blair was okay._

"Mr. Bass, I'd like to talk to you first."

_They were going to be alright._

"Mr. Bass, _please_," the doctor pleaded, grabbing onto the sleeve of Chuck's suit. "There's something you should know before you go in there."

"Whatever it is, I don't care. I just need to see her. I need to see her now," Chuck hissed, pulling his arm away. He shoved past the doctor and closed the door behind him.

And there was Blair. But it wasn't.

It was the same beautiful face, the same chestnut brown hair, the same petite body. But she was nearly lifeless. Her skin was pale and splotchy. Her hair was shaved on one side of her hairline to make space for a bloody bandage. Her blank stare was trained on the wall in front of her.

"Blair?" Chuck whispered, but it sounded like a yell in the small room. Blair's eyes darted wildly until they stopped on him. Expressionless. Emotionless.

"Blair, I'm so glad you're okay," Chuck said. He pulled one of the lounge chairs away from the wall to the space next to her bed. She continued to stare at him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that this happened. You were right about me. You were right about everything. I was stupid, Blair. I keep telling myself that I'm empty inside, that I need to push you away."

She stared.

"But I'm so wrong. I need you more than anything. _You _carry _me_, Blair. You're the only thing I need. You're my hero, and I'm sorry that I'm just realizing it now."

She stared.

"When I saw you get hit by that bus, I saw my own life flash before my eyes. I did. But it wasn't a stream of moments or even a few memories. When I saw my life flash before my eyes, I only saw you. It's only _you_."

And she just stared.

"Blair, please," Chuck cried, letting more tears slips from his eyes. He grasped her hand. "Please say something. Anything. Yell at me, scream at me, please."

Blair stared down at their intertwined fingers, furrowing her brow. She took a breath and let it out.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But who are you?"


	2. Chapter Two

Blair mostly ignored him while he spoke. The strange man with bloodshot eyes and a purple silk scarf paced the room, trying to convince her that she knew him.

But she didn't.

So she just studied the room she was in. You know, people always spoke so poorly of hospital rooms – calling them dark and dirty and depressing. But Blair found it kind of beautiful, how a tangle of buzzing machines, silver wires, and fluorescent lights could be so powerful. They made life, they saved lives, and they ended lives. Here, babies were born, people awaited their fates, and others said their last goodbyes.

Yes, it was beautiful. In a tragic sort of way.

"Blair? Are you even listening to me? I'm _Chuck_. Chuck Bass. You've known me since we were in diapers. _Please_, please don't let this be some sort of sick game you're playing. It isn't funny," Chuck said, trying to grab hold of her hand again. Blair flinched away. She didn't _know _him. Sure, he was handsome. Nice brown eyes, probably the perfect height for her, with the hair of a movie star. His jaw was well-defined, and he was in shape. Looks-wise, he was definitely high on the attractive scale.

But with his short temper and mind-numbing ranting, Blair found herself annoyed rather than swooning.

"Look…Chuck, is it? I don't know who you are, but I – "

"Is everything okay in here?" Blair's doctor called, peeking into the room. Blair sighed in relief. This Bass person obviously wasn't going to pay any attention to her. The doctor would explain everything. She opened her mouth to speak, but Chuck beat her to it.

"Thank God," he huffed. "She's not remembering anything. There has to be something I can say to, you know, trigger her memory. My name isn't ringing any bells for her."

_Jesus. _Blair rolled her eyes. If he said "I'm Chuck Bass" one more time, Blair would hurl herself off of the hospital bed.

"Mr. Bass, you need to calm down. This is a very common occurrence. It's highly likely that she'll regain her memory in months, weeks maybe," the doctor said, placing a tentative hand on Chuck's shoulder. Chuck shook him off and began to pace.

"I don't have months. I've waited _years_, six years, to be with this girl, and now everything is falling apart again. What am I supposed to do? Where do we go from here? She can't remember anything."

Blair stared at them from the bed. What was he talking about? Why were they pretending she wasn't there? She shook her head, blinking away the tears forming in her eyes. She couldn't take this anymore. She wanted to scream.

"Stop, _stop_," she hissed, trying to sit up. "You don't know what you're talking about. I've never met that man in my life, but I haven't lost my memory. I'm Blair Waldorf. I live on the Upper East Side. I know _exactly _who I am."

"What?"

"I said," she started, but Chuck cut her off again. How rude.

"No, I heard you. Are you saying that you just don't remember me?" Chuck whispered, finally giving up his pacing. He sat in the farthest corner of the room, looking at her through squinted eyes.

"I'm saying that I just don't _know_ you," Blair said. "Unless…did we meet at a party or something? Because if you're just some kind of stalker…"

"_Blair_. Look at me," Chuck insisted, coming over to her. He leaned over her bed until he was only an inch away from her face. _Too close._ "We've nearly been together for six years. _Six_. I've memorized every single inch of you, and you know _every _part of me. All of my secrets, my hopes, my dreams. You've been there for all of it."

His eyes were glistening, and it almost cracked her cool exterior. She felt for him. She really did.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't know you," Blair whispered.

Chuck backed away from her in disbelief. His face looked shell-shocked, and the doctor had to guide him over to his seat. Blair watched as his shoulders hunched over, and he dropped his face in his hands. Blair shook her head. _Unbelievable_. He'd come storming into her room, making all of these accusations, and _she _was the one who was feeling guilty.

Suddenly, the door opened again, and Blair's heart leaped at the familiar face.

"Serena. Finally," Blair said, sitting up a bit.

"_Blair_, you're okay. You look amazing, even in that ugly hospital gown," Serena said, grinning. She looked around the room and stopped. "Chuck? What's wrong? Blair's fine."

Chuck shook his head, unable to look up at either of them.

"She doesn't know who I am," Chuck whispered. "She doesn't remember me at all."

"What? That's ridiculous. Blair, that's Chuck."

"Wait…you know him?" Blair asked, furrowing her brow. _No. _That meant…that meant he'd been telling the truth. That meant…

"Of course I know him, Blair. We've all been friends, in a _very_ loose sense of the word, for years. His father, Bart Bass, is married to my mother," Serena said, placing a hand on Blair's. Blair shook her head, trying to rack her brain for information – trying to understand.

"No…Bart Bass doesn't have a son," Blair whispered, frowning.

"Blair, he does. He has – "

Suddenly, Chuck stood up. His expression was empty, and he cast a blank stare in their direction.

"Just stop, Serena. Blair's right. Bart Bass doesn't have a son. And Blair Waldorf doesn't have a fiancée." Chuck stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Silence.

"Fiancée…" Blair whispered, short of breath. "Serena, tell me that he's crazy. Tell me that it isn't true."

"Blair, try to relax. Now's not the time…"

"_Tell me_, Serena," Blair nearly screamed. She couldn't breathe. _It couldn't be true_.

But it was.

"Blair, he was telling the truth," Serena whispered. She stroked Blair's hair with one hand, trying to sooth her. With her other hand, she lifted a chain that Blair hadn't even realized was hanging around her neck. She held it up for Blair to see. It was a plain chain, just silver. But at the end of it hung a silver ring with the most beautiful diamond Blair had ever seen. It sparkled and glittered under the lights. Blair held her breath and tried to concentrate. She tried to remember, but there was nothing. It was just a beautiful ring. It meant nothing to her.

Then something happened. There was a sharp pain in her head, like someone had gone in and cut a rip in her brain. She gasped, closing her eyes. It was like there was something there, something trapped, trying to escape. Blair groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead.

Then she saw it, clear as day. Pieces of a memory she never knew she had. The smell of leather and scotch. Traffic outside. Lips on lips. _Are you sure?_

And then nothing. Just darkness. Blair was unconscious once again.

:::

Chuck caught bits and pieces of the doctor's words. _It's a very rare case, but I've seen it before._

Blair didn't remember him.

_She's created a world in her mind where you never existed. The human brain is very complex, capable of altering memories and working on its own._

Blair didn't remember him.

_But what troubles me is the trigger of these cases. Something extremely traumatic usually has to happen right before an accident to put someone into such extreme shock. A loss…a fight…a break up…_

Blair didn't –

_Mr. Bass, what really happened the night of the accident?_

"What?" Chuck sputtered, snapping to attention.

"I was asking – "

"No, I heard you," Chuck said, standing up. He shrugged his coat on, nearly knocking over a chair in the process. "I just…I have to go. Please tell Blair – tell them to keep me updated on her progress."

Chuck had never faced a happier escape. He shoved the hospital doors open, gasping for breath. There had been so many people there…there had been a camera…she was going to know what happened. Chuck hunched over, putting his hands on his knees for balance. _Breathe. Breathe._

"Hey, man. You okay?" G_reat_.

Dan Humphrey stood behind him, hands shoved pathetically into his cheap coat pockets. Chuck straightened up, tying his scarf tighter around his neck.

"I'm _fine_," Chuck hissed, turning in the opposite direction. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" He took a seat on the hospital steps, pulling out his phone to scroll through nothing.

Dan sunk down beside Chuck on the cold steps. Chuck rolled his eyes. He clearly couldn't take a hint.

"At least we didn't lose her," Dan said, staring out at the cars passing in front of them. Chuck nearly gagged.

"_Never _refer to you and I as 'we' again. I am Charles Bass. And you are…a Humphrey," Chuck hissed. "And anyway, I might as well have lost her."

"Hey," Dan said, raising his hands as a white flag. "I'm just saying. You shouldn't be moping around everywhere. It could've been worse." Chuck shook his head and stood up, anxious to get away from Humphrey's idiotic philosophical banter.

"Saying that I can't be upset because it could be _worse _is like saying that you can't be happy because someone might have it better. One has nothing to do with the other. So stop pretending like you know what you're talking about. And _stop _pretending like you know me."

Chuck walked away. _Anywhere but there_. _Anywhere._

He was suffocating.

He picked up his phone again, scrolling through numbers before he came to the only one he could imagine using at the moment.

It took three missed calls and three spare rings before he got an answer.

"Look, I know that I'm the _last _person you want to speak to right now. I know. But I have nobody else. I just…I need you."

:::

Lily walked into the café on the corner of 68th and Park Avenue an hour later. Her face was stern and hesitant. She took a cautious seat in front of Chuck, and he slid a mug in front of her.

"I ordered your favorite, a cappuccino. I asked them to put a bit of caramel in it. The way you like it," Chuck murmured, treading the waters.

"Well," Lily murmured, adjusting the silk scarf around her neck. "That's very nice of you. Now, Serena told me what happened. It's very terrible, and my heart is breaking for you. But if this is another ploy to get to your father…"

"This isn't about Bart. I swear to you, Lily. When Blair was hit…I realized that I'd been worrying about the wrong things for so long. It won't matter if I take over Bass industries. Even if I owned every single hotel chain in the _world_, it would mean nothing if I didn't have Blair. If I…if I didn't have my mother."

Lily didn't look at him for a long minute. Chuck's heart stilled. Lily was all he had left, if he even had her. Nate had betrayed him, Blair couldn't remember him, and his father just wasn't his father. Lily was a glimmer of light. Faded, yes. But she was still there.

When Lily finally looked up, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She placed a hand on his cheek. _Warmth_.

"I'm here, Charles. I'm here." Chuck fell into her touch, closing his eyes.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered. His voice cracked, and he hated himself for it. He was weak. He was never strong enough for Blair. Never strong enough for his family.

"If there is one person in the world who knows how much you love that girl, it's me. She brings out a part of you – No, she brings out the _real _you. But this is a test, Charles. This is _the _test. Life works in mysterious ways."

"What do you mean?"

"Is there anything you regret about your relationship with Blair?" Lily asked.

"I…I wouldn't have waited so long. I wouldn't have given up so many times. I would've told her that I love her right away," Chuck whispered, realizing _exactly _what Lily was talking about. Lily smiled at him, nodding her head.

"And now's your chance. How far are you willing to go to get the start you always wanted with Blair?"

"Lily, you're – "

"I know, Charles. Now _stop _wasting your time here with me, and go get your girl."

Chuck grinned, leaning over to press a light kiss on Lily's cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, not bothering to wait for a response. He felt it in her touch, in the things she said, in the way she comforted him. She was his mother.

And Blair, Blair was going to be his wife. They were going to repair their story. This wasn't the end. This was their second chance.

His phone chimed with a new text message. **_Blair's up. Asked to see you. – S_**

He just had to prove it to her.


	3. Chapter Three

Blair woke up and thought of Chuck. _Instantly_.

It unsettled her. His face was in her mind, and her heart was calling for him over and over again. _Chuck Chuck Chuck._

But her head didn't know why.

It was almost alarming how quickly he came when she asked for him. Before the accident, Blair would've felt _great _about it. She lived to have guys at the snap of her fingers, beckoning her call. It was something she'd never been able to do – starting with Nate Archibald. She supposed that things had been different with this Chuck Bass.

He was standing there in front of her now, waiting for her to react to his presence. Well, what was she supposed to say? _Remind me – I'm sorry – Help me –_

"Hi," she whispered, the safest bet. She nodded at the seat beside her bed and straightened up. And she felt _nervous_, like she was a teenager again. She wondered if this was what she'd been like when they knew each other.

Her eyes fell to his lips, cheeks flaming as she wondered about their first kiss and their first…_more _than that. He seemed like the romantic type – grand gestures and kisses that _meant it_. It had probably been under starlight or candlelight or…

Nothing raunchy like sweaty, sloppy kisses in the dark. Hookups in clubs. Third base in the backseat of a town car.

Blair shuddered. No, it probably wasn't anything like that.

"Blair," he said, "I'm so happy that you called. But I have to say that I'm surprised. You didn't want anything to do with me before…so what changed?"

Blair took a deep breath, trying to recall the pictures she'd had in her head. Pictures and dreams and empty memories. Most of it made no sense, stupid flashes and broken words. But one thing stood out. One thing always broke through.

"The Empire State Building," she said, meeting his eyes.

And his face dropped.

_Oh. _So this was something. This meant something.

Something bad.

"You – you remember?" His voice cracked. Why did his voice crack like that? Why did he look so afraid?

"I kept seeing it in my dreams. The building, the flowers, and a question. And maybe…disappointment? I just…I can't get there…I can't _get _to it."

"_Blair_," he said, stopping her with a gentle hand on her arm. _Electricity_.

She pulled away, surprised by the feeling. Goosebumps trailed up her skin, right to the back of her neck. She shrugged it away. _Because she couldn't. Because this wasn't real._

"What?"

"That's not a memory worth having," Chuck said, avoiding her eyes.

"And _you're_ deciding that? You get to decide which memories I keep? You and everyone else have been telling me to _remember, remember, remember_. And now I'm trying to, so tell me, Chuck. What is so goddamn important about the Empire State Building?"

"Blair, don't make me do this. Do make me go through all of the bad things again. Let's just start over. You can get to know me, and – "

"Chuck." This time, it was her hand on his. This time _he _was electrified. She wouldn't let him look away. "If you want a chance…if there's _any _chance, you have to tell me. I have to know."

"I don't know what to say. I wouldn't know where to begin," he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. There was so much agony in his eyes. So much _pain_. Was that her? What could possibly be so horrible?

"Then tell me how it started. Tell me what we _were_," she whispered, refusing to look away.

"Blair, _please_. I just want to start over," he tried again. "Bringing all of that up will just..."

"Chuck, you want me to believe you. You want me to understand. Everyone around me keeps telling me that we have this story – everyone keeps telling me that it's there. And I'm trying to reach it. I keep trying to find it, but I'm just empty and hurting."

"Blair - "

"It hurts to miss something that just isn't _there_," Blair whispered, shaking her head. Tears fell and her heart hurt. Why was this happening to her? Where was this coming from? It was like loving a movie she'd never watched. Talking about a book she'd never read.

She didn't understand.

And then the words came. Chuck Bass, sobbing through a stream of words.

:::

_There was Victrola and the necklace _[not Nate, no Nate never came]_ and betrayal and games and a limo and tears and three words _[eight letters]_ and alone on a helipad and Bart Bass was "dead" and she loved him but that was too bad._

_And then there was happy and flowers _[always peonies, how nice]_ and auctions and he's okay now. But then…Jack Bass and Blair had to do what? And all of these people…all of these others: Jenny _[Oh. The Empire State Building.]_ and Raina and Carter and the Duke and Louis and Dan and Eva and a gun shot and they couldn't be together but they belonged together._

_But they couldn't. And a wedding that never happened and a baby _[a baby]_ and a car crash and a pact with God and then they were all in. And poker chips. And everything else that led up to…._

:::

The ring on her necklace. Blair stared at the man crying in front of her. She tried to make sense of it, tried to breathe – but she couldn't. She couldn't fucking breathe. She clutched at the ring, scratching into her skin, willing it to bring her back. Willing it to _tell _her. She shut her eyes. She couldn't remember.

But she could feel. There was something inside of her – maybe her heart, maybe her _soul _– telling her that she loved this man. She didn't know why, but she knew it was true. _She knew_. Maybe it wasn't real to her. Maybe it didn't exist in her head.

But there _was _a Chuck and Blair. And she needed to –

"Kiss me," she said, pulling his hand, pulling him towards her. And he almost did, only hesitating for one moment.

"Are you sure?"

_Are you sure?_

_Are you sure? Are you sure? Are sure? His limo, her drink, after Nate. _She was sure. It would make her remember. It would get her there.

But before she could answer, there was a small ding from the phone in his pocket. Her own cell vibrated against the table. And this:

_Up and at 'em, Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here for a little wake up call. Aren't we all so excited about C and B's little reunion? Aren't they just the sweetest? Too bad B doesn't remember what put her in that hospital bed in the first place. Let's press play and find out:_

_"Chuck, please."_

_"Blair, we can't be together. We will never be together."_

_You know what they say, B. What you don't know won't hurt you. But I guess it's a little too late for that._

_-XOXO, Gossip Girl_

__:::

"Pull up here, Arthur," Chuck called out to his driver. They'd been circling Blair's block for the past hour, waiting for…he didn't know what. She'd been released from the hospital that morning, after weeks of blocking his calls and ordering the hospital attendants to keep him out.

And Chuck was drowning. In alcohol. In sleep. In regret.

_"Get out."_

_"Blair, let me explain."_

_"You honestly want me to believe that we loved each other? People in love don't land each other in the hospital."_

_"Blair – "_

_"I want you out. I never want to see you again. I don't know you now, and I never will."_

Chuck shook Blair's furious voice from his head. He couldn't give up this time. He _wouldn't_. That was never going to happen again. He took one last shot of liquid courage from the glass in his hand.

Serena had just pulled up outside of Blair's apartment, and _this_ was his chance. If he couldn't get to Blair, he could get through to Serena. He'd done her countless of favors. She had to come through. She had to. He watched as the blonde struggled with a pile of white boxes before hopping out of his limo.

"What have you got there?" he asked, startling her. Serena glanced around, frowning when she saw him.

"None of your business," she said, picking up her pace. Chuck was one step behind.

"Need help?" Chuck called, offering a hesitant grin. Serena narrowed her eyes and shook the hair out of her face.

"Not _your _help," she hissed, but she barely put up a fight when Chuck lifted the boxes from her hands.

"Serena, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I lied. To Blair. To _you_. You just don't understand the situation I was in."

Serena ignored his pleading, stopping him before he could follow her through the double doors.

"You can leave the boxes with Vanya," she said.

"Serena – "

"Chuck, she doesn't want to see you. It's your fault that all of this happened. She can barely walk. She's on constant medication. She doesn't even _know _you. This is beyond anything you've ever done to her."

"I didn't know this was going to happen," Chuck insisted, his voice cracking. He stared down at the ground.

"Well, it did. And now you have to deal with the consequences." Serena spun on her heel, turning away. Chuck reached out and grabbed hold of her elbow.

"_Please_. Do this one thing for me. Just give me this one chance," he begged. Serena pried her arm from his grasp, shaking her head.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Blair has a visitor, and he's already upstairs," Serena murmured. Her eyes widened, as if she realized she'd just given something away.

"_Who's_ upstairs?" Chuck asked. His heartbeat picked up and that morning's alcohol was starting to catch up with him. He felt the ground shift under his feet, gravity's hands pulling him down.

"Nobody. Forget it."

"Serena, I need to know who's with Blair. I _need _to know."

"Just go home, Chuck," Serena said, only a small ounce of sympathy in her voice. She pushed through the doors and left him standing in the cold.

Chuck groaned, trying to fight his growing migraine. He hobbled back to the limo and pulled open the door. As he got in, he caught movement from his peripheral vision. His heart stopped.

_Blair._

She was rolling into the lobby, sitting in a wheelchair. She had on plain black pajamas, her hair was twisted up, and her face was clean of makeup. _So beautiful._

Chuck braced himself, ready to walk back to her building. He just needed her to listen. He just needed to explain, and they would be okay. They were going to be –

But Blair wasn't alone.

A man came up in front of her, with his back turned to Chuck. Chuck strained his neck, trying to get a good luck at the guy, but he could only make out a head of brown hair and a long black trench coat. The man bent to give Blair a light kiss on the forehead. Just as he turned around, a bus passed in front of Chuck, blocking his view.

Then he was gone.

And so was Blair.

Chuck's head hung in defeat, his heart sinking to his stomach and his stomach to his knees. He closed his eyes, refusing to let the tears come. When he opened them, he saw a bit of white paper fluttering against his shoe. He picked it up, reading it through a haze of blurry vision. He recognized the tiny rectangle and crisp blue edges.

It was a fortune cookie's fortune. Chuck turned it over, frowning at the words.

**_History will repeat itself._**

As if that meant anything.

He flung himself back into the limo and slammed the door shut.

Chuck threw back another shot. And then another. He was hazy vision and dirty clothes and - _where was Blair_?

Nowhere. Because she knew. Everybody knew. Every step forward was ten steps back for them. They were the old Chuck and Blair. The old pain. The old misery.

So why not be the old Chuck?

Chuck froze. _The old Chuck._

He pulled the fortune from his pocket and read it again. _History will repeat itself._

And Lily. _But this is a test, Charles. This is the test. Life works in mysterious ways._

Of course.

"Another shot, Arthur. And make a left on the next corner. We're going to Brooklyn."

:::

By the time they arrived, Chuck wasn't sure if he had the right address. It was dark outside, and the townhouse was dimly lit inside. Chuck poised himself, shaking off the alcohol, and rang the bell.

"Yes?" the man asked when he answered the door. He was short and much older than Chuck, with a hunched back and graying hair. Chuck relaxed. This would easier than he thought.

"I'm Chuck Bass, of Bass Industries," Chuck started, forgetting to correct himself. _Not anymore_. But that didn't matter. None of that mattered. "Are you the owner of the pub on 29th and Broadway? The Bellov?"

"Yes," the man confirmed. "What of it?"

"I'm looking to rent out the space on Friday night," Chuck said, clasping his hands together. The man didn't waste any time declining his offer.

"No can do, kid. Friday's our best night. Your rent isn't worth half of the income I'll be getting," the man huffed, moving to shut the door. Chuck cleared his throat, stopping the door with his foot.

"I don't think you understood my offer, sir. I'm _Chuck Bass_. Go ahead and calculate your estimated income for Friday. Hell, you can even cheat me a few hundred dollars. I'll _triple _that."

:::

An hour later, the man had a makeshift contract drafted up, and Chuck was making the arrangements to pay the man his money.

"What do you want with my bar, anyway?" he asked Chuck, sliding over the sheet of paper. Chuck scanned it before responding.

"Not your bar," he said. "I'm more interested in the establishment that was there before it."

"Right, right. Was some sort of club, wasn't it? Started with a V. Vi – "

"Yes," Chuck replied, signing the papers. "Victrola."


	4. Chapter Four

_We can't be together. We will never be together._

_Chuck –_

_Blair…_

_Miss BLAIR!_

Blair sat up in bed, gasping awake.

"Ms. Blair, I've been trying to wake you up for half hour," Dorota said, shaking her leg. "Are you sure you're ready to be home?" Blair nodded, shaking the nightmare from her head. She waved Dorota away.

"I'm fine, Dorota," she said, straightening herself up. "Besides, that's what I have an alarm clock for."

"I just have special delivery for you, Ms. Blair. It arrived early this morning. Looks very special," Dorota said, cautiously handing her a box. Blair unwrapped it, carefully unfolding the thin paper and lifting the lid from the velvet box underneath. On top of the tissue laid a white card with gold letters.

_1395 West Broadway._

"What's this address?" she asked, flipping the card over for a name or an explanation. Nothing. Dorota shrugged, gesturing to the unwrapped tissue. Blair peeled it off, revealing a beautiful heap of white lace.

_A dress._

Blair pinched the fabric between her fingers, lifting the matching headband beside it. It was stunning. Just her size.

_Just right._

Her head filled with bright lights and music and dancing…

And then nothing. Blair shook her head. What was this?

She glanced at the card again, noticing the date printed under the address. It was an invitation.

An invitation she'd have to decline. It was dated for this Friday, an hour after her company's launch party started. Eleanor would be making the _big _announcement, officially giving Blair rights to her part of the line.

Which reminded her…

"Quit staring and start working, Dorota! You _should _be making the final arrangements for the Waldorf Gala. We need 26 - "

Blair was interrupted by the trill of her phone on the nightstand.

**Spotted: Chuck Bass driving across town, making arrangements for a certain undisclosed venue. Has he finally given up on Project Blair? Or is there something brewing under the surface of all this planning?**

Blair pursed her lips, staring down at Chuck's picture. He was just getting out of his limo, but he still managed to look like he was posing for GQ. Blair took in his blown back hair, wide jaw, handsome suit…

"Enough. We can't waste any time. We're going for a full-blown closet expedition today," Blair said, muting her phone and tossing it to the side. She shoved the box into the back of her closet and began to rifle through hangers in a half-hearted attempt to forget the Gossip Girl blast. Blair frowned when Dorota didn't join her.

"Dorota, what's been with you lately? Snap out of it," Blair hissed.

"Ms. Blair, I notice that you have not been returning Mr. Chuck's calls. Don't you – "

"Don't even _mention _that name to me. The doctor is finally letting me walk without that horrid cane, and Friday is a huge night for the Waldorf line," Blair nearly squealed, pulling apart her closet. Dorota ducked from the flying clothes and hangers.

"But Ms. Blair, Chuck is your first love," Dorota called. The clothes stopped flying. Blair exhaled, ignoring her heart panging. She looked down, willing herself not to feel. _She didn't know him. _She did _not _know him.

"That's impossible. Now help me pick out an outfit."

"But _Ms. Blair_."

"I _know _who my first love was, Dorota. And it wasn't Chuck," Blair said, glaring at her with determined eyes. "I know who I've always wanted. If anything, this accident gave me a chance to win him back."

"I don't think it's such good idea," Dorota murmured, picking up Blair's trail of clothes. "That is…sailed ship."

"It is _not_. He wants it as much as I do. He's the one who came to _me _after the accident. He's been here every single day since I came home," Blair said. She heard the ding of the elevators downstairs. A voice calling her name. "In fact, there he is now."

Blair nearly flew down the stairs, smiling when she saw him.

It was just like it used to be.

_This _was real.

_This _is what she remembered.

"Hi Nate."

:::

An hour later, Nate and Blair were curled up on Blair's loveseat, just like they had been for the past three Wednesdays. Dorota came in and served them more tea.

"That's enough, Dorota," Blair said with false sweetness. When Nate had his head turned, Blair shot her a look. "You can take the rest of the afternoon to do something _else_." Dorota nodded, hastily grabbing their empty trays and fleeing the room.

"Excited for Friday night?" Nate asked, smiling at her.

"Of course. I can't believe it's only two days away. You'll be there, right?" Blair asked, inching closer to him. Blair imagined them, the golden couple, walking through the doors of the gala. Nate Archibald of _The Spectator_and Blair Waldorf of _Waldorf Designs_.

What she had always dreamt of.

"Of course I'll be there," he said, taking hold of the hand in her lap.

Blair smiled, warmth spreading through her cheeks.

"Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"What made you tell me that you still loved me when I came back from the hospital? You were just frolicking with _jail bait _last month. You and I…I never thought we'd end up together again. What changed?"

Nate looked down, thinking.

"I, um…" Nate trailed off. Blair waited, her heart sinking. She couldn't help remembering Chuck at the hospital – instantly telling her why he loved her. _Instantly _being there when she wanted him.

_No. _Blair pushed the thought away. _Over, over, over._

"Yes?" she asked, egging Nate on.

"I just realized that I…"

Blair waited.

"I couldn't live without you. When I heard about what happened…when I heard about your accident, I knew that you were the love of my life."

Blair pulled him in for a kiss, and they were both thankful for the silence. Why was it so awkward now? His eyes were too nervous, his voice too empty. Like he was reading from a script.

Like he barely meant it.

His lips were soft, and it was nice. His fingers brushed her cheeks, hers ran through his hair.

It was gentle.

It was _fine_.

Sure, they had a spark.

But somewhere, deep inside of Blair, something tugged at her. The same thing that had been bothering her since Chuck Bass had walked into her hospital room three weeks ago.

It was just a spark.

_But nothing like fireworks._

:::

"Dorota, I can't thank you enough," Chuck said. This was the second time they'd had to arrange a meeting in secret. His efforts would be for nothing if Blair didn't show up on Friday. He'd called countless of stores, dialed every designer on the Upper East Side until he'd found it.

In order to bring Victrola back, Blair needed the right dress.

"Yes, Mr. Chuck. Now go, before she notices I'm gone," Dorota whispered, even though they were in the building's lobby – far from Blair's ears. "Remember, this is last chance to make things right. I only do this because Ms. Blair is lost. She needs help."

"I know. Trust me, I know," Chuck said. "Did she tell you if she'd be there? Did she –"

"Mr. Chuck, I have _no time_," Dorota said, turning to the elevators. And she was gone.

That was helpful.

Chuck shook his head, scrolling through his phone. It was buzzing with missed calls and delivery confirmations. The burlesque models needed costumes. Furniture needed to be resituated. And Chuck had fifteen minutes to make it to a midtown champagne testing to find the _exact _brand they'd had that night.

And it was all worth it.

This night had to be perfect. If he could completely re-create it, if he could get the memory _exactly _right, he could trigger whatever was left of Chuck Bass in Blair's memory. He knew it was _there_.

He just had to get to it.

"Yeah, I'm leaving now," called a voice from the other end of the lobby. Chuck narrowed his eyes, instantly recognizing it.

_Nate._

Chuck ducked behind one of the lobby's pillars. He watched as Nate spoke into his cell phone. What the hell was Nate doing in Blair's…?

_No._

"Yeah," Nate continued. He walked through the building doors, and Chuck followed closely behind. "Blair and I have gotten really close. She's really starting to fall for me and –"

Nate choked on his words, dropping his cell phone on the cement. Chuck had grabbed hold of his collar, pressing him up against the corner. A few people stopped, nervously looking at them and nudging each other.

But Chuck didn't care. He had to be...this couldn't…

"You've been seeing Blair," Chuck spat. He could _feel _the blood rising in his body.

His vision was all red.

_All fury._

"Chuck, I – "

"I _saw _you, Nate. Twice. Don't even try to deny it."

"Okay, yeah. I've been seeing Blair, but…"

"Why would you do this to me? I thought we were friends. I thought we were _brothers_," Chuck yelled, nearly ripping the collars of Nate's coat. Chuck slammed him against the wall again. All he felt was rage, burning heat, cold anger.

His fingers curled into fists.

"Chuck, wait. Calm down, okay? I can explain."

"Explain? Go ahead. Try to explain why you're stealing my fiancé right out from under me," Chuck hissed, slamming him again. _Too hard, too much._

He didn't care.

Nate groaned, trying to pull away.

"Since when do you want Blair?" Chuck continued. "Is this some sick way of getting revenge? Huh?"

"Chuck, it's not what you think," Nate pleaded. "I'd never do that to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't love Blair. Not like that. I can explain everything."

"You have about five seconds, Archibald. You have five seconds before I – "

"It's your father, Chuck," Nate whimpered. "It's Bart."

:::

"You're telling me that my father is blackmailing you _this _way?" Chuck asked. They were sitting in Chuck's limo, prying the situation from under the nose of the camera-snapping New Yorkers outside.

"Before Blair's accident, he already knew that he wanted to use me against you. When he found out about what happened, he told me that he could use this. He knows that Blair's the one thing you care about and –"

"And you went along with it? You _knew _how hard it was for Blair and I to be together already."

"He could send me to _jail_, Chuck. I'd lose everything," Nate said, exasperated. Chuck poured himself another drink. Of course his father would think of this. Only Bart would be there to twist the knife _after _Chuck had already been stabbed.

"We have to do something. What are you going to do? _Marry _Blair to stay out of jail forever?" Chuck asked, shuddering at the thought.

"We have to take your father down," Nate said, running a hand through his hair.

"You're right, Nate," Chuck said, shooting him a dirty look. "Let's just use all of the evidence I have against my father and put him in jail right now. Problem solved. Why hadn't I thought of that?"

"Hey," Nate said, "I want to get out of this situation just as much as you do."

"I know," Chuck said. "I'm just…Blair's going to choose _you_. She doesn't know me. In fact, she hates me. And you're her…_Nate_."

Nate's head snapped up, a slow smile forming on his face.

"What if I'm _not _the Nate she remembers?"

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked, underwhelmed. Nate didn't usually come up with the brightest plans, and he'd learned to expect nothing from his best friend.

"The reason why she left me for you in the first place was because I had…changed. She realized that I wasn't the kind of guy she wanted to be with," Nate said. Chuck perked up in his seat, listening. "Bart can blackmail me all he wants, but he can't do anything if _Blair _chooses you. He has no control over her."

"You might be onto something, Archibald. But Blair doesn't even want to see me. I invited her to come out with me on Friday, but - "

"Friday?" Nate repeated. "That's the night of Blair's launch party. I have to go with her."

Chuck groaned. He was so _stupid_. It hadn't even occurred to him to clear Blair's schedule before he started planning. It was all going to go to waste. It was all –

"I'll get her there," Nate said. "I'll end it that night. I'll pull in Serena, _everybody_ to help. They're mad, but they know that she doesn't belong with anyone but you."

"Are you sure, Nate? Any misstep, and my father won't hesitate to throw you in jail. You don't know what you're dealing with."

"Exactly," Nate said. "What _I'm _dealing with. It's about time that I grow up and stop using other people to get me out of my problems."

Chuck nodded, finishing off his drink. It was crazy, but it just might work. He watched as Nate outstretched his hand. Chuck met him halfway, and they shook on it.

He just had to trust his best friend.


	5. Chapter Five

This was her moment.

Blair put on a smile, tugged her dress straight, and walked into a haze of flashing lights and people calling her name.

_Ms. Waldorf, over here. How are you recovering from your accident? What's next from your line, Blair?_

Blair stood at the center of it all, chin tilted up, one hand on her hip. She shot a smile at the photographers, subtly glancing around the room. The gala had been done perfectly, decorated exactly as she instructed. Beautiful peony bouquets covered the tables, silk hung from the walls in perfect rows. _Perfect._ Except -

Blair's eyes landed on two figures pressed up against each other in a dark corner. She nearly called security before she recognized the mess of floppy black curls and the blonde with legs for days.

Serena and Humphrey were canoodling in the corner, making it no secret that they were continuing their exhausting love saga for yet another chapter. Blair stifled a groan, posing for another picture. _Nothing _was going to get in the way of her triumph. For once, she was at the center of something.

For once, something _belonged _to her.

Just hers.

Blair spotted her mother at the microphone on stage, and her heart leapt. Eleanor had been going on and on about some big announcement she was going to make at the gala.

_Something that will revolutionize the company. Something that would change the face of Waldorf Designs._

It was _obviously _about Blair's promotion. Blair was probably going to be given some fancy title. She practiced it in her head. _Hello, I'm Blair Cornelia Waldorf – Head of the B Division of Waldorf Designs._

Blair frowned. She'd have to work on it.

"Ms. Waldorf, you're needed on stage right," one of the event planners whispered to her.

Blair smiled, dodging the group of photographers that were invading her personal space. She should _not _have been able to smell what the cameraman had for lunch.

Gagging, she pushed past them and stood off to the side of the stage, where her mother was beginning her introduction.

"I'd now like to welcome someone who plays an _essential _role in my company."

Blair smiled, straightening her dress for the fifth time.

"She exhibits extraordinary talent, exquisite taste…"

Blair raised a hand to her heart, almost blushing. She stepped up to the stage entrance.

"And was able to show such strong leadership when my daughter was recovering from her horrible accident."

_What?_

"Please welcome the new _co-designer _for Blair Waldorf's line…"

_No. It couldn't be –_

From the other side of the stage, a blonde with kohl-rimmed eyes, a long and silky black dress, and a cluster of gothic jewelry stepped up next to Eleanor.

"Jennifer Humphrey!"

Blair couldn't stop her eyes from widening, her mouth from hanging open. As the crowd clapped, Blair reached under her shawl and pinched the skin on her elbow. _Wake up, Blair. This is some sick, twisted nightmare. It's a hallucination. A –_

"Thank you, Eleanor," Jenny said, stepping up to the podium. "It's an absolute privilege to be working alongside Blair Waldorf. I jumped at the opportunity to return to New York and join her line. She was someone I idolized so _much_ in high school. And now we're going to be _co-workers_."

Jenny shot Blair a faux smile from the stage. Blair shook her head, feeling the pastries she'd had for breakfast rise to her throat. She backed away. Her head was dizzy, and she couldn't _breathe_.

This was hers.

This wasn't high school anymore.

This was supposed to be hers.

"Blair, where are you going? You're needed on stage to give your speech," the event planner said, trying to grab her arm. Blair broke away, slapping a hand over her mouth. She cast one last glance at her mother, smiling up at Jenny, before she darted through the crowd. She heard the hush of whispers all around her, saw cameras flashing in her face.

Blair ran out into the lobby, thankful for the cooler air. She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees. _Breathe, Blair. Just…breathe._

She kept seeing Jenny Humphrey's face.

She imagined her beautiful clothes being draped in black on black on black. What were they going to design for now?

Satan worshippers?

"Blair?" called a voice from the doorway. Blair looked up and instantly relaxed. Nate stood there in the suit she'd picked out for him earlier that week. She straightened up and ran into his arms.

"Nate, thank God you're here," she whispered. "You will not _believe_ what just happened." Blair reached up to press her lips against his, but something was wrong. He tensed against her, grabbing her elbows to push her away.

"_No_, Blair," he said. His voice was cold, and his expression was vacant.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Her voice cracked, and she flinched. _This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real._

"It's over, Blair," Nate said. "You and I didn't work out the first time. Nothing's changed."

A gasp slipped from Blair's lips, and she backed away from him. Her heart sunk and her chest panged and she just needed to – to – _breathe._

Why couldn't she breathe?

This was supposed to be a flawless night. Her amazing comeback. She'd imagined her name in lights, people standing in line just to catch a glimpse of her.

She was _Blair Waldorf_.

But nobody cared.

Tears rolled down her face as she shoved past Nate and ran outside. She shivered in her thin dress and tugged her wrap tightly around her shoulders. Where the hell was her car?

"Ms. Blair," Dorota called from behind her. Blair shook her head and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"I'm not going back inside, Dorota. I don't know why you're even out here. You should be helping the caterers."

The caterers for _her _gala.

For _her _line.

For _her _moment.

"Ms. Blair, I am not asking you to go back inside," Dorota continued. Blair sighed, turning around.

"Then what is it? I'm really not in the mood to – " Blair paused, staring at the box Dorota held in her hands. The package she'd received earlier that week. The dress. _The invitation._

An escape.

Dorota held the box out, giving it to Blair.

"You should go, Ms. Blair," she said, gesturing to a car that had just pulled up in front of them. Blair hesitated, taking a small step towards it.

"But I don't even know who it's from," Blair whispered, staring down at the box. Dorota shook her head, opening the car door and nearly pushing Blair into it.

"Ms. Blair, I think you know exactly who it's from."

:::

A half hour later, the car pulled up in front of a club.

Blair peeked out through the tinted windows. The line for it was down the block, but there were no windows on the building – just black walls and velvet carpets laid out in front. Music blasted from inside, a pulsating beat that she could feel from her seat in the car.

Blair nervously glanced down at her lacy white dress. Compared to the mini skirts and tube tops in line, she looked like she was headed to a nunnery.

"Do you know where we are?" Blair called out to her driver. "Or _who's _here?"

"I'm not allowed to disclose that information," the driver huffed. He got out of the car and opened Blair's door. She stepped out, and he immediately got back in the car and sped away.

_Well._

Blair stepped forward. What was she supposed to do now?

"Are you Blair?" a hefty man in a black suit asked her. He held a clipboard in his hand, and a Bluetooth stuck out of his ear. Blair eyed his top hat, raising her eyebrows at the red feather sticking out of it.

_What was this place?_

"Yes, I am."

"Come with me," he said, leading her into the building.

And suddenly it was the year 1920.

Flappers twirled around her, dancing with men in fitted suits and bowler hats. In front of her, there was a huge stage. Burlesque dancers winked and stripped and sashayed for the crowd as they hollered and cried out for more. The furniture was all vintage – cream colored couches and velvet bar stools.

It was nothing like the stiff white chairs and wooden stage back at the gala.

Blair took it all in.

_Wow._

"You came."

Blair's head snapped up, focusing on the man in front of her.

"_You_," she whispered.

Blair tried to look away from Chuck, but she couldn't. He was just so _handsome. _His gray suit and his slicked-back hair and –

"I'm glad you came," he repeated. He handed her a champagne flute and held out his other hand to her. "Well, are you coming in?"

:::

Blair.

Blair was the way the daylight fought with the night sky. Brightness and darkness. The moment that created the most beautiful but unexpected burst of blue.

The moment to wait for – to _hold your breath _for. That was Blair.

And he would never admit it [maybe he'd whisper it in her hair when she was too asleep to know], but looking at her made his chest hurt sometimes. He had to believe that this was what breathtaking meant. He had to believe that this was what destiny was.

He just had to believe. For both of them.

Blair stood in front of him at Victrola, and he shook his head at all of the clichés running through his mind. Time really did just _stop_. It always felt that way. Every time he saw her. Chuck and Blair were a stream of moments and tears and good-byes and hellos and mistakes and kisses and –

And now.

_If you could go back knowing what you know now…would you do it all again?_

He would.

"Where's Nate?" he asked her when she took a hesitant step in his direction. She glanced up at him with her eyes wide.

"You know about Nate?" she asked, and was that guilt in her eyes? Burlesque models laughed and danced, bumping into them. Chuck nodded, keeping his eyes straight on her.

"Nate and I…we broke up," she said. She frowned, mouthing the words again. Remembering. _Remembering?_

Chuck watched her, watched as she shut her eyes and furrowed her brow.

"Blair?" he asked, placing a hand on her waist. Her eyes popped open, and she looked at him in wonder. It wasn't like before, not like he was some stranger. Now she looked at him like he was someone she might have seen before. A face in the window, sitting next to her on a train.

_Recognition_.

And that was better than nothing.

"Let's go inside," she whispered. She reached for his hand, hesitating before grabbing two of his fingers. _Not quite, but almost._

And Chuck could barely breathe.

They sat down on the lounge chair – the same loveseat from _before_. Chuck watched Blair watching the dancers as she sipped her drink. She smiled, loosening the band around her head.

"I've been here before," she said.

"Yeah," Chuck replied. "You have. Do you…do you remember where this is?"

"No," she muttered, frowning again. "I just remember the lights. All of the people…the dancers. I could never dance like that."

Chuck raised an eyebrow, smirking at her.

"But you did."

"No…_this _is Victrola? This is why you brought me here?" she asked, nearly dropping her drink. Chuck nodded nervously. It was different now. He didn't know which Blair this was. Maybe this had been a stupid idea. How could history repeat itself when she didn't even _know _–

"I want to go up there," she said, handing him her drink.

"_What?_"

"I've got nothing to lose," she shrugged, standing up. "Everything always feels like it's falling apart. Everything is always just _crashing _and _burning. _I just want to…I want to breathe."

And Chuck could only nod.

He could only watch as she shimmied up to the stage. _Again_. He could only watch as the dress came off and the headband fell into his lap and the crowd cheered. _Again._

"Who's that girl?"

He didn't really know. He hadn't seen her in six years.

She did have moves. She was even better than she was the first time. She wasn't a girl anymore. She filled out her dress, and she was so unafraid. Her eyes blazed with mischief as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

And he was falling for her all over again.

But wasn't that what love was really about? Eva and Raina and all of the others – maybe Chuck had loved them once [if you could even call it that].

But he fell in love with Blair _everyday_. He fell in love with stupid things, like the way she ate desserts in tiny bites so they would last longer. The way her nose crinkled when she was angry.

But he also fell in love with the big things. The way she loved Dorota like a mother, but would never admit it. The way she stopped herself from counting calories because she was stronger now.

He fell in love with the way her arms wrapped around him _even in his darkest hour_.

And he fell in love with her then, moving on that stage, setting everything on fire.

And he knew.

He watched as her lips curled up and her eyes brightened.

He would chase Blair Waldorf to the end. He would follow her anywhere.

And then something was wrong. Chuck snapped out of his haze to see Blair clutching at her head, crying out in pain. The other burlesque models stopped, watching on as she fell to her knees. She cried out, shaking her head. Chuck sprang up from his seat and ran to her.

"Blair, what's wrong?" he asked, panicked. He tried to lift her up, but she slapped him away. She stumbled to her feet and pushed past him. She was running again.

But this time Chuck was a step behind her, following her out of the door and down the block. He caught the fabric of her slip on the corner, pulling her away from the street.

"Let me _go_," she screamed. But Chuck held on, only moving away to pull his suit jacket off and slip it around her. Tears streamed down her face.

"Blair, what did I do?" he asked. "I thought you were having fun. I thought you were…"

"Remembering?" she spat, pulling away again. "Why can't you just leave it alone? There's a reason why this happened. All of the pain…all of the hurt you told me about. I don't _want _to remember it."

"Blair, we weren't just pain," he said, surprised at how harsh his voice sounded. He grabbed her face in both of his hands, forcing her to look at him. "We are _Chuck and Blair_. One doesn't come without the other. Not anymore. You don't get to walk away. You _can't_." His voice cracked, and he was freezing. Together, they stood there, glaring at each other. The game was back in play.

And they both held the cards.

Blair could…

Or Chuck could just…

"Mr. Bass," Arthur called from the corner. He had the backseat of Chuck's limo opened as he frowned at them. "I hate to interrupt, but my shift ends in fifteen minutes. It's twenty degrees out here. I should take you two home."

Chuck nodded, numb. He dropped his hands, sliding them down Blair's cheeks. With one hand, he led her to the limo.

And there they were.

The air was thick and silent, and unspoken words hovered between them – threatening to evaporate if they weren't quick enough.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, folding his hands in his lap. "It was a stupid idea. I'm sorry I put you through that."

Blair nodded, pursing her lips. Her eyes were tired when she turned to look at him, her head rolled back against the headrest.

"Why?" she asked, squinting her eyes.

"Why?" Chuck repeated. "Why what?"

"Why did you love me? Why would you go through all of this?" she asked, waving her hand in the air. Chuck nearly let out a laugh.

"You really don't know, do you?" he whispered.

"Know what?"

"I never loved _anyone _before you," he rasped. "I never woke up with a face in my head or a name on my lips before you. I found myself walking across the street one step ahead to make sure you were safe. I started_listening _for your name in conversations in knew you wouldn't even be in. I didn't know what it meant to be Chuck Bass anymore. I was nothing, and then you were everything, Blair. And maybe it's hurt most of the time. Maybe we played games and fell apart and didn't love each other the right way. But I would rather have this broken, beautiful mess than have anything with anyone else. I would choose you, and I will choose you._Always._"

"I – "

"So even if you walk away, even if you're really done, I hope you_ never _feel alone. Because there will be a man out there who would die for you. There's a man who will be waiting in the wings. There's a – "

Impact.

But a different kind. Blair pressed her lips against his, and Chuck shut his eyes against the spark, feeling it in his bones. His hands were gripping her hair, lifting her hips, stroking her cheeks, anchoring him to that moment.

_But I am me, and you are you._

Blair moaned in his ear, her short pants ghosting over the skin on his neck, raising the hairs there. Chuck hitched her leg over his hip, moving with her. Against her. Just her. Always her.

And she said his name, moaned his name.

Almost like she really knew him.

_The worst thing you've ever done._

"I'm sorry," he panted against her skin. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry this happened." He said it again and again as they fell into each other. Blair tugged at his hair, sliding across his lap, bit down on his lip. So raw and so real.

And everything was good. And everything hurt.

"It's okay. It's _okay_."

_The darkest thought you've ever had._

And together they spiraled down, falling back against the seats, scratching at skin, and holding on for dear life. White lights filled Blair's vision, and Chuck dug his head into the crease of her neck.

And as they fell, they cried. Blair because she knew, but she didn't remember. Chuck because he was afraid. He was afraid of what came after.

So they held on.

Their hands searched in the darkness, sliding over the leather seat until they found each other, intertwining their fingers, squeezing tight.

_I will stand by you through anything._


	6. Chapter Six

Blair woke up drowning in fabric. She was wrapped in a thick duvet, and her skin brushed against a silk shirt that didn't belong to her. She felt the space next to her, but it was cold. There was no imprint.

There was no proof.

She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, glancing around the room. _So this was where he lived. _She wondered how many times she'd slept in this bed before. How many times she'd walked right into this apartment like it was her own.

Blair shook her head. _Never_.

If she couldn't remember, it didn't exist.

She had to go.

Blair pushed the sheets off of her, opening Chuck's shirt to slip her dress on underneath it. She knelt down on the carpet, searching for a missing earring, her other high heel. _Where is that little – _

The elevator dinged, and Blair froze. She heard footsteps before the bedroom door opened. Chuck Bass walked in, fully dressed. He was smiling as he stared down at something in his hands.

"I picked up your favorite macaroons from that bakery you love. I cancelled a few of my morning meetings, nothing major. I thought we could spend the day in."

"I, um…" she started, getting up. She straightened out her dress and smoothed back a strand of her hair.

"You're leaving," he said, attempting to tuck the box behind his back. Blair's heart sunk.

"I am. I'm…sorry. I have so many things to take care of," she said, picking up her clutch from the foot of the bed.

"Right," Chuck said, nodding. "Okay."

She finished collecting her things and stood in front of him. Chuck smiled at her with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. He leaned into her, grabbing her waist, and Blair fell into his arms. She kissed the corner of his lips and rested her forehead against his shoulder for a moment.

"Thank you for last night," she whispered. "I really needed that."

"Anytime, Waldorf," Chuck said. He pressed his face into her hair, relieved that she wasn't jetting for the door. "I love you."

Blair froze, tensing in his arms. Chuck cursed under his breath as she pulled away from him. _Too much, too soon._

"I'll see you soon," Blair promised, making her way to the door. Before she could go, she stopped at the entryway, clutching the doorknob there. She let out a strangled noise from deep in her throat. Chuck ran to her side as she bent over and fell to the ground.

"Chuck," she gasped, shutting her eyes in pain. "My head. It – I – Help me."

Chuck panicked, draping her across his lap, holding her head in his hands. Blair's lips parted to speak, but she choked on her words.

"Come on, Blair," he pleaded, gently lifting her head. "You have to talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Tell me how to help you."

He watched as the light left her eyes before they rolled back into her head. She went limp in his arms, hair sweeping the floor under them. Chuck's eyes widened as he shook her, roughly this time.

"Damn it, Blair," he said, a breathless sob escaping his lips. "You have to stay awake. You have to keep your eyes open."

But there was silence.

And she was gone.

:::

"I should've realized that something was wrong last night," Chuck murmured, pacing through the hospital waiting room. Serena, Dan, Nate, and Cyrus watched him nervously. He looked like a ticking time bomb, with fury in his eyes and the veins in his neck just about ready to pop out.

Serena stood to place a hand on his arm. "Chuck, you didn't know this was going to happen. None of us did. We'd all thought she had recovered. You have to try to relax."

Chuck scoffed, backing away from her. "Stop pretending like any of you give a shit about Blair. You have no idea how this feels."

"She's my best friend," Serena argued.

"Then detach yourself from Humphrey for one second to start acting like it." Chuck spun on his heel and headed for the other side of the waiting room.

"I see that he's back to his old ways," Serena sighed, returning to her seat.

"He just needs time," Cyrus chimed in. "This is hard on all of us. But she's the love of his life. And all he can do is blame himself."

"What's going to happen to her?" Serena murmured, head sinking into her hands.

"She's going to be okay," Nate said. "We're her best friends. We just have to be there for her when she comes out."

"I'm sorry that we're all meeting again in this setting," Blair's doctor said, coming to stand in front of them. His features were slanted into a grim expression. "I'll need to speak with Blair's closest relative immediately."

They all turned to Cyrus. Eleanor was back at the penthouse, gathering Blair's insurance papers from Dorota.

Cyrus glanced up with a gentle smile. "I don't think her fiancé will ever forgive me if he's not the first to see her."

"Right," Serena agreed. "I'll get Chuck."

Serena cautiously crossed the waiting room to where Chuck was standing as still as a statue. He didn't even flinch when Serena tapped his shoulder, just rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"What do you want now?"

"The doctor has news on Blair," Serena said. "He wants to talk to Blair's closest relative."

Chuck paused before turning around. "What about Eleanor?"

Serena shot him a gentle smile before leading him to the doctor. "_You're _her family, Chuck. It's always been you."

:::

"You're telling me that you gave her the _wrong _diagnosis?" Chuck spat. "What kind of hospital is this? We're not paying you to jerk us around."

"I greatly apologize for our mishap, Mr. Bass. I can assure you that we're thoroughly investigating the nurses who were on staff at the time of Blair's accident."

Chuck looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What are you saying? Is she going to be okay?"

The doctor paused before continuing on. "The good news is that Blair _has _recovered from most of the damage done by the accident. She should wake up from this spell in a few days or so. Her slight memory loss was psychological trauma, and I expect her to overcome it fairly soon."

Chuck relaxed, relief washing over him. "You're saying that she'll remember me?"

"Eventually, yes."

Chuck nodded. "Then what's the bad news?"

The doctor swallowed. "I suggest you sit down, Mr. Bass."

Chuck shook his head, straightening up. "I'm fine where I am."

"Very well. As we tested Blair's head for bruising, we discovered a malignant glioma tumor. It was located in the pons of her brainstem, which is very cancerous and extremely dangerous."

"A tumor," Chuck breathed, falling back against the wall.

"This has nothing to do with the accident. In fact, it's lucky that Blair came to get checked when she did. The cells are spreading at a remarkably rapid pace. Because of its location, you should know that Blair's case is extremely serious."

"What are our options?" Chuck managed to choke out.

The doctor sighed. "The surgery available for removal of this tumor is highly dangerous. If Blair doesn't respond well to the procedure, it will kill her instantly."

Chuck bent over, a wave of nausea sweeping over him. His vision blurred, and he swayed on his feet. "And without the surgery?"

"Mr. Bass, Blair's case is far past our usual routine. I'm afraid – "

"What are you saying?" Chuck hissed. "Just spit it out."

"I'm saying that we can try our best with chemotherapy and radiation, but the tumor is far too large to be affected by it. We can _prolong _the process as much as we can. But without the surgery, I'd give Blair two months at most."

Chuck looked up, genuinely confused. "Two months? Two months for what?"

"Two months to live, Mr. Bass."

:::

The Bass penthouse was in shambles.

"Charles, you have to stop," Lily screamed, hands over her ears. Serena stood by her mother, desperately trying to catch Chuck's attention. But he couldn't hear anyone.

Or anything else.

_Two months to live._

_That's all she has._

"Please, man," Nate called, dodging the glasses that flew off of Chuck's bar counter. Chuck's fists were bleeding, and the cuts on his face were likely to scar. "This isn't going to help. This isn't going to save her."

"You're right," Chuck yelled, turning to the frames on his mantle. "She's going to die. She's all I have, and she's going to _die_." Serena looked away, falling into a fit of sobs. Lily wrapped her arms around her, running a hand through her hair.

"I'm going to take her back to the hospital," Lily said to Nate. She glanced at Chuck. "Please take care of him, Nathaniel. You can't let him do this to himself."

"Of course," Nate replied. He turned back to his friend, taking a cautious step towards him.

"Chuck, look around you," Nate said. "Do you honestly think that Blair would want you to do this?"

Chuck froze. His shoulders tensed up as his vision cleared enough to see the shattered picture frame in front of him. A long time ago, Chuck had tucked away the portrait of him and Blair at the Snowflake Ball during senior year, probably during one of their breakups.

But there it was now. Blair with her elegant black dress and chocolate brown hair. She was smiling at him like he was perfect, like she saw right through all of the pain he had put her though.

Blair was the only one who could do that.

And she was being taken away from him.

Chuck hunched over, gripping the picture with shaky hands. The first tear came, and then the second. And then he was sobbing because _this _was why he didn't want to be with her all of those years ago. He had known that this desperate, impossible, heart-wrenching love would come.

Losing a love like that could kill a man.

Nate knelt on the floor, pulling his best friend into a firm hug. Normally, it would have killed Chuck to be babied by Nate this way. But all Chuck could do was dig his face into Nate's shoulder.

"It's going to be okay," Nate said, patting him on the back. "We all love her. And she needs all of us right now. You have to be strong for her."

Chuck exhaled. "I can't lose her. I can't survive that."

"You're Chuck Bass," Nate corrected.

Chuck shook his head, pulling away. "Not without her."

:::

Blair awoke to a pair of sleepy brown eyes.

And for the first time, they were familiar to her.

"Chuck," she whispered, stroking a finger over his cheek. Memories filtered through her brain, like someone had borrowed them for a while before putting them back. She could feel his eyes on her at Victrola, hear his first "I love you", taste his lips during their stay at Monte Carlo.

She could _remember_.

"Blair," Chuck whispered back, nuzzling his face against her hand. Blair smiled, pushing her fingers through his hair. She tried to lift her arm before remembering that there was an IV attached to it. She winced.

"Do you want me to call the doctor?" Chuck asked, eyes wide open and alert.

"No," she murmured. "I only need you."

He nodded, shooting her a sad smile.

"Does something catastrophic have to happen every time we sleep together?" Blair asked, giggling.

Chuck looked up, surprised at her joke. He let out a strangled laugh. And then he realized what she was saying. "The doctor told you."

"He did," Blair said, her smile faltering.

"Blair, I will do _anything_ it takes to keep you with me," Chuck insisted. "I know that you don't remember, but I – "

"Chuck," she said, hushing him. "I have to ask you something."

"Anything. Go ahead."

Blair smiled, looking him straight in the eye. "Do you remember when we snuck into Bass Industries and had sex on every surface of your father's office during junior year?"

Chuck smirked. "Of course I remember. I don't see how you would – " Chuck's eyes widened, and he looked at her again. Really looked at her. "Blair, you remember."

Blair smiled, using her free arm to lift the chain from under her hospital gown. She held it up the Harry Winston ring between them.

"We're inevitable," she whispered. "Everything is going to be okay now."

Chuck bit his lip, leaning over to kiss her. Blair kissed him back, a lone tear running down her cheek.

"But, Blair," he whispered, pressing his face into the curve of her neck. The doctor said – "

"Shhh," Blair said, sounding much older and wiser as she pulled her fingers through his hair. "It's going to be okay."

And for a second, he almost believed her.


	7. Chapter Seven

Blair had avoided mirrors for all of three days, until she just couldn't take it anymore. She sat in front of her vanity now, tubes of makeup sprawled out on the white wood. She traced the dark circles under her eyes, her chapped lips, her pale cheeks. To say that she looked terrible would have been an understatement. Chemotherapy was hitting her harder than anything she'd ever felt. It gnawed at her bones, pulling her apart from the inside, slowly. She'd been on regular doses for only two weeks. And if she wasn't throwing up, she was stuck in bed with splitting headaches that she thought might kill her. She'd worked so hard to be _perfect_. Years and years of having everything under control.

Trying and failing.

_And it had all come down to this_.

"Blair?"

She glanced up at Chuck's reflection behind hers in the mirror. Blair's eyes widened before she scrambled to swipe concealer over the black splotches under her skin.

"I'm not ready yet," she murmured.

Chuck nodded, coming to place his hands on her thin shoulders. He smoothed his thumbs over the bones pushing against her skin. "That's okay. Do you need help?"

Blair pursed her lips, staring straight forward. "No."

Chuck nodded, swiping a hand over his jaw. He shut her bedroom door and sat on her bed, keeping his eyes on her. "I thought we could go to Central Park today. I'm sure that your ducks miss you."

Blair made a face, brushing powder on her cheeks. "They should get used to it."

Chuck flinched. "I told you not to talk like that."

Blair let out a sharp laugh, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, "Look at me," she droned, raising a limp arm. "I'm a walking corpse."

Chuck swallowed, standing to pull her into his arms. His hands found the small of her back, his lips found hers in a gentle kiss she couldn't resist.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "Always have been, always will be." Blair closed her eyes, letting herself feel an ounce of pleasure amidst all of the toxic in her body. Her shaky hands slid to his neck, skimming the skin there. When she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, he groaned, holding her tighter. Chuck's hands darted up to pull through her hair.

"_Don't_," Blair cried, pulling away and gasping for breath. But it was too late. They both stared down at the loose strands of chestnut brown hair that had come away in Chuck's fingers. He choked up, feeling like someone had just knocked the breath out of him. His hand was frozen, absolutely paralyzed. A familiar instinct tugged at him, telling him to _run_. Run from pain, run from loss, run from heartbreak. But –

"Blair – " he began, his voice breaking on her name. But her eyes had gone black.

"That's just _great_," Blair spat, knocking his hand away. "Thanks, Bass."

"I didn't know – "

But Blair continued. "Are you satisfied with yourself now? Why don't you just, just – " Blair grew frantic, hands reaching up to tug at her thinning hair. The strands fell through her fingers in clumps. "Pull the rest of it out?" Cold tears streamed down her face as she went on and on, going over the edge of her sanity.

"Stop it, Waldorf," he hissed, grasping her wrists. She struggled against him.

"No, you stop it," she retorted. "Stop pretending like this isn't some karmic punishment for being a queen bitch in high school. I _deserve_ this."

"You don't - " Chuck held her still, trying to read the expression on her face. "Blair, just let me help you. Please."

Blair paused, letting out a breath. "Do you really want to help me?"

"I'll do anything," he promised, grasping her hands. She stared down at the ground, bracing herself.

"Then _get out_," she said, the words spilling like venom from her lips. Chuck pulled back, incredulous. He waited to see if this was one of her sick jokes, but she refused to look at him.

Chuck took a breath, infuriated. "I'm not your lapdog, Blair. If you push me away, I'm not coming back."

"Then good riddens," she replied, staring past him. Chuck released her, turning to shrug on his coat. Blair sat down to watch him go. His fist were clenched, and his breath came heavy.

"Goodbye, Blair."

She smirked condescendingly, staring at his back. "Now _there's _the Bass I know."

:::

"Blair," Serena gasped when the brunette walked through her elevator doors. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be back at the hospital this weekend."

Blair brushed past her, throwing herself on the lounge. She was gasping for breath, her small hand clawing at her chest. "It's so _cold _outside," she said, her eyes rolling back. "I just – "

"_Blair_," Serena called. She went over to her best friend, gently lifting her head. "Did you _walk _here? Blair, you're sick. You can't just – "

"I'm sick?" Blair repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Her cold hands gripped Serena's arms. "God, I hope it's not _cancer_."

Serena shook her head, brushing a strand of hair from Blair's face. "B, why are you acting like this?"

Blair rolled her eyes, reaching into her purse and surfacing with a small orange pill container. "Can't you take a joke? And you always called _me_ the uptight one." Blair took it upon her self to stumble over to the kitchen counter and pour herself a glass of water. She popped in two of the tablets and swallowed them down.

"B, come on," Serena murmured, taking her arm. She laid her down on the chaise, propping a throw pillow under her head and wrapping her in a thin blanket. Blair fought to keep her eyes open, rolling her head to the side.

"I had to let him go," Blair groaned. A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she jerked her head back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Who, Blair?" Serena asked, raising a hand to Blair's forehead. "Chuck?"

"He was going to walk away from this," Blair whispered, gesturing to her frail body. "I saved us both the agony and pretending. He can go find some beautiful girl to make him happy now."

"Blair, tell me you didn't break _up _with him," Serena gasped.

"Why do you sound so surprised, S? We're Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck," Blair slurred. "We break up, and then we do it again and again and – "

"Not this time, B," Serena hissed, gently shaking Blair awake as her eyes closed. "Chuck has changed so much. He's given up _everything _for you."

"What are you talking about?"

Serena let out a breath, biting her lip. "He didn't want me to tell you," she started. "He didn't want to worry you. He's been staying here with us since he…he sold The Empire. He sold it to Bart, Blair. He traded it for you."

Blair sat up, barely feeling the stab of pain hit her body. "He did _what_?"

:::

_One Week Earlier _

"You wanted to see me?" Chuck asked, perched at the doorway of his father's office. He stared around at the cold, blank room. There weren't any pictures hanging on the walls, or anything else that would allude to Bart having a life outside of Bass Industries.

"Charles, you made it," Bart said, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "Sit down. Let me pour you a Scotch."

Chuck rolled his eyes, taking a seat. "I'm not here for your false pleasantries, Bart. Tell me what you want and stop wasting my time."

Bart sighed, sitting back in his chair. He took his time pouring himself a drink, sipping it before addressing Chuck again. "If that's what you want, fine. I heard about Blair's situation. And I wanted to extend my condolences."

"Condolences? She's not dead," Chuck spat.

"Of course not," Bart replied. "I just can't imagine how difficult it all is for you. First her accident, and then her cancer. I'm worried about you, Charles."

Chuck scoffed. "Yeah. You seemed very worried when you set my best friend up to win her back just to torture me." Bart nodded and smiled, recalling the scheme as if it were a pleasant family memory.

"I did what I had to do. Surely you can understand that." Bart cocked his head to the side, meeting his son with cold eyes. "But don't think I can't relate to your situation. I experienced my own loss. We're one in the same."

Chuck shook his head, slamming his hand down on Bart's desk. "Blair isn't Mother. And I am _nothing _like you. You're a washed-up liar with a failed marriage and a failed hotel."

Bart narrowed his eyes before relaxing in his seat. "I've been doing some research. It's really quite fascinating what even the most respectable doctors will do for a few million dollars. Giving out patient's names, switching out medicine. You can't trust just anyone with your life these days."

Chuck swallowed. "What are you saying?"

"John Shar. That's Blair's doctor, isn't it? Easily influenced, that one. He'll be joining me in the Alps next month."

Chuck's temper flared, and he practically jumped across Bart's desk. "What did he do to Blair? I swear to you, I'll have you – "

"Relax, Charles," Bart cut in. "Dr. Shar has been following Blair's chemotherapy per its usual regulations. I just wanted to remind you that _I _am pulling the strings here."

Chuck pulled back, shaking his head. "I'll press charges on you _and _your doctor. There are thousands of hospitals around the country."

Bart smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Yes. But there's only one that has been able execute the surgery for malignant glioma."

"That's Blair's tumor," Chuck murmured.

"I have connections that reach far before your time," Bart said, clasping his hands together. "And I have the money it will take to get you there."

"What's the catch?"

"Son, there is no catch," Bart grinned. "I'd do anything to see you and your lovely fiancé happy and healthy."

"No, you wouldn't," Chuck spat.

Bart shrugged. "You're right. I wouldn't. What do you have left now, Chuck? Two months? One? Happiness comes at a price. Are you willing to pay it?"

Chuck didn't hesitate before answering, "Anything. You can have anything."

Bart smirked, pulling out the contracts from his drawer. "For one girl? Then you're more foolish than I thought."

:::

_Present_

"Where is she?" Chuck asked, bursting into the van der Woodsen penthouse and shoving past Serena. The blonde chased after him as he scanned the room for Blair. "Upstairs," she said. "In the bathroom."

"You left her _alone_?" Chuck hissed, heading for the second floor.

"She wanted to be by herself."

Chuck rolled his eyes, shooting her a disgusted look. "_Unbelievable_. I can handle it from here, since you're incapable of taking care of her for any longer than five minutes.

"_Chuck_," Serena breathed, grabbing his arm. "There's one more thing."

Chuck paused impatiently, turning to her. "What? What is it?"

"I had to tell her, Chuck," Serena muttered. "I'm so sorry."

Chuck groaned. "What the hell is wrong with you? That's the _one _thing I told you in confidence."

"I'm sorry. Let me just – "

"You've done enough, Serena," Chuck hissed. "Go entertain yourself with other things." Chuck didn't bother to wait for her stunned reply. He found Blair in Serena's bathroom, the door open slightly ajar. She was curled up on the cold tiles, her hair falling into her face as she wretched in the toilet.

"Jesus," he muttered, going over to her. Blair gasped for breath when he lifted her head, pulling her hair back with one hand. He used the other to rub circles over her back.

"Chuck," she breathed, turning her face to look at him. There were bags under her eyes, and her mouth was stained. Chuck frowned, taking a piece of tissue to wipe her up.

"Shhh," he said, encircling her waist. "Let's get you cleaned up." Chuck picked her up, tucking an arm under her legs. Blair dropped her face into his chest and let out a strangled sob.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to – "

"It's _okay_," he insisted gruffly, taking her through the guest bedroom and to the other bathroom. He sat her at the edge of the tub as he ran the water. "We should have hospitalized you. You can't handle the dosages at home." He shook his head, eyes raking over her body. "You're too small."

But Blair ignored him, continuing to plead her case. "I didn't mean what I said. I didn't know that you sold The Empire to _Bart_. What if the surgery doesn't work? You'll have given it up for nothing."

Chuck shook his head, lifting her blouse over her head. "You're not just something, Waldorf. You're everything. And The Empire is of no use if you're not ruling it right beside me."

Blair swallowed staring down at the ground. "Things are going to get worse. I'm going to be hideous."

Chuck let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, pinching her chin with two of his fingers. He tilted her face up and made her look at him. "You're perfection, Blair. You're the most stunning woman I've ever laid eyes on, and that's never going to change. It's been six years, and I still see the same beautiful face I grew up with."

Blair nodded, blinking away the tears brimming in her eyes. Chuck pulled down her skirt and peeled off her underwear before placing her in the tub. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as he kneeled on the tiles beside her.

"Just relax, baby," he whispered, gently scrubbing her skin. He rubbed at her legs, following them up to her stomach. He took his time as he went, kissing where he cleaned, massaging every part of her. Blair let out a long sigh of content.

Chuck froze when he noticed more of Blair's hair slip into the water and sliver down the drain. When she turned her head, he noticed a small bald patch over her left ear.

He decided to leave her scalp alone.

When he was done, he wrapped her up in a towel and dried her off. He pulled a robe over her shoulders and guided her back to the bed. Blair let out a breath as he pulled the covers over her, tightly tucking her in.

"Thank you," Blair mumbled, pressing her face into the pillow.

"You don't have to thank me, Blair. It's a husband's job."

"Not my husband yet," she murmured sleepily.

Chuck smiled, his fingers skimming the diamond ring hanging around her neck. "No, not _yet_."

:::

An hour later, Blair awoke to a gentle hand on her back. She shifted, grateful that the pills had kicked in and the nausea had gone. She squinted at Chuck, who was sitting up in bed, flipping though an issue of GQ. Blair smiled, dropping her head into his lap so that she could look up at him.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger.

"Really well," she murmured.

Chuck smirked. "You were snoring loudly enough."

Blair gasped, slapping him on the chest. "_Bass_. I do not snore. If anyone snores, it's you."

"Whatever you say, _dear_," Chuck retorted, stroking her arm.

Blair stuck her tongue out, teasing him. And then she paused, remembering. "The Empire is gone."

Chuck shook his head, his mouth setting into a grim line. "It's still there. It's just not mine anymore."

"Oh, Chuck," Blair sighed, sitting up to press a soft kiss to his neck. "I'm so sorry."

"It was worth it," he said, kissing her forehead.

"I just wish there had been another way," Blair replied. "You put so much into that hotel. _Three years_."

"I have other investments," Chuck stated. "Besides, I've done things for that hotel that I'm not proud of. I was just a boy when I bought it. It was about time that I sold it. Maybe now we can actually start over, without all of the baggage."

Blair paused, her eyes widening as her mind raced with ideas.

"You sold The Empire," she breathed.

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "We just went over that."

"You sold The Empire," she repeated. "And my mother gave my branch of her line to Jenny Humphrey. We spent so much time trying to salvage the scraps leftover from feuds with our parents, and we didn't see that there was potential for so much more."

Chuck's eyes widened. "What's on your mind, Waldorf?"

"Your management and my style, Bass," Blair grinned. Her mind bubbled with ideas, forgetting the situation they were in, the chemicals in her body, the impending deadline of her _life_. Her eyes glistened with excitement. "We should've been partners in this from the very beginning. Imagine a classic hotel, rooms styled after _Gone With the Wind_ and _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. Vintage parlors and Parisian boutiques. Guests will walk in and be transported straight to the past."

"And the underground speakeasy," Chuck breathed. "Straight from that time." Chuck grinned in amazement. "I fell in love with a genius."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "You're just realizing that now? And since the old one is gone, and we're so fond of the name, we can call it – "

"Victrola," Chuck finished.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chuck was in a room he didn't recognize. All around him, people he knew – and some he didn't – were wearing black. He heard a symphony of snobs and sniffles, saw people dabbing at their eyes with tissues. The air was too thick, the room was too dreary.

It was a funeral.

Chuck glanced down at his own attire, a black suit and a bow tie in deep noir, and frowned. There were girls he recognized as Blair's former minions from Constance, carrying over straight to NYU and then to Columbia, in a way that only Blair could manage. He inched over to them, head cocking to the side as he took in their conversation.

"God, so tragic, isn't it?"

"Totally. I mean, she was so young."

"Where am I?" he finally asked them. "What is this?"

The girls looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language, glancing at each other through the corner of their eyes. Finally, one of them broke out into snarky laughter.

"Wow, he really has gone insane, hasn't he?"

"It's so sad. He was so hot before he turned into the tragic type."

Chuck watched them walk away, giggling to each other with their heads bowed in childish synchronicity. He swallowed, scanning the room until his eyes rested on a blonde huddled in the corner. Tears stained Serena's cheeks, and her eyes swelled. He made her way to her, dodging the glares from the rest of the room.

"Serena, what's going on?" he asked, tugging at her elbow. She turned and immediately pulled him into a hug. She let out a hiccup as she dug her face into his shoulder.

"You're here," she whispered. "Is your speech ready?"

"My speech?" he repeated, pulling away from her. "What – "

Suddenly, a priest began to speak in front of the room, hushing the crowd. Chuck turned to the front, noticing the stark black casket there. Peonies covered every inch of it, set up in an eloquent array of bouquets.

Chuck swallowed, eyes widening. _Peonies._

He glanced around the room, recognizing the emptiness in the room – the void he'd come to memorize from his time apart from her. The most important person in the world – and she wasn't there.

"Serena…" he whispered. He looked down at her hands. She was desperately clutching a silk headband with shaky fingers.

No. No. _No._

Chuck looked forward again. In front of him was a huge portrait of a face he knew so well. Eyes that had shone through the darkness on that dim night of Victorla – and had haunted him ever since. A perky little nose. Lips he'd come to memorize – on his skin, against his ear, down the nape of his neck.

Chuck sank down to his knees, hands curling into fists as a sharp fit of bile rose in his throat. The priest went on, clearing his throat as he turned his attention to the casket. He almost seemed to be speaking directly to Chuck.

_We gather here today in memory of Blair Cornelia Waldorf._

:::

"Blair," Chuck gasped, sitting up in bed. It took him a moment to return to reality. He blinked twice, his vision propelling to another room, a bed. He clutched the sheets beneath him in a death grip, trying to catch his breath. His hands came up with air, and he panicked, jumping out of bed. He pushed through the door, the rest of the world blurring around him as he scampered down the stairs. He nearly tripped over his feet when he ran straight into Cyrus Rose.

"Chuck," Cyrus chirped, giving him a firm pat on the back. Chuck brushed past him in a daze, making his way into the sitting room. He let out a ragged breath when a frail brunette glanced up at him, startled.

"Hi," Blair murmured as he sank to the ground in front of her. He peered up at her with careful eyes, hands on the knobs of her knees. Her hair was short and thin, grazing her chin now. Her cheeks were flushed again, the bruises from her bones fading. She'd been off the chemo for the past two weeks, in preparation for her surgery. They'd fly out to Connecticut in five days, and she would go under the knife in six. He dug his face into her lap, in a way that he'd only ever do with Blair. It was when she coughed softly and tilted his chin up that he realized they weren't alone at the table.

"Charles," Harold Waldorf said kindly. "It's good to see you."

They exchanged pleasantries, the usual small talk that Chuck Bass absolutely detested, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of Blair. She cast him a scolding look when Harold cleared his throat twice, trying to catch Chuck's attention.

"What was that?" Chuck asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We're all very gracious to your father," Harold said, placing a hand over Blair's, "for making this possible. It's rather miraculous, really."

"Yes, well," Chuck said, suppressing an eye roll. "The man did come back from the dead."

"And Blair tells me that you two intend on opening some sort of establishment together," Harold continued.

"A _hotel_," Eleanor chimed in, rolling her eyes behind the newspaper in her hands.

Blair shot her mother a look, raising her cup to sip some tea. Chuck's throat went dry when the cup shook in her hands, nearly spilling the liquid inside. Blair frowned and set it down again.

"Victrola," she finally said. "Chuck and I have decided to join forces, rule Manhattan together."

Harold laughed, shaking his head. "I see that age hasn't touched that sheer determination of yours."

"And it never will," Blair scoffed, lifting her chin.

"No," Harold agreed, his eyes on Blair's thin face and tired eyes. "It won't."

"Victrola?" Cyrus chimed in. "That's a strange name for a hotel. How did you two come up with that one?"

Blair coughed, nearly choking on piece of baguette in her mouth. Chuck smirked, his fingers skimming over her knee under the table. She elbowed him, shifting away, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"It was just a good draw," Chuck drawled. "Blair took a liking to it. When you just _strip _the word down to its roots and _stage _it the right way, it has a lot of crowd appeal."

"Okay, Bass," Blair deadpanned, her tiny foot coming down over his. "They get it. You love Victrola."

Chuck cocked his head to the side, teasing her. "How could I not? Victrola gave me everything."

Harold glanced at both of them. "I feel as if I've missed something."

"That's how I've felt the past six years," Eleanor huffed.

It was then that Blair's teaspoon fell to the floor, clattering on the hardwood. Chuck reached out for her first, the rest of the table darting up in panic. Blair waved out her hands, shoving away from the table.

"I'm _fine_," she insisted. "Dorota, take care of this. I'm going to have a bath."

Dorota rushed over, helping Blair up from her seat. Chuck stood helplessly, reaching out for her elbow, but Blair pulled away.

He held her gaze. "Do you need me to – "

"_No_," Blair hissed. She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle. "No. Everything's fine. Please stay here with my parents."

"Blair – "

"Please," she insisted. "Listen to me, for _once_."

He parted his lips to challenge her, but she shot him a glare in warning. All he could do was watch as she hobbled up the stairs, Dorota on her tail. He sank down in his seat, raking his fingers through his hair.

"You're good to my daughter," Harold said, placing a steady hand on Chuck's back. He tensed under the man's touch before relaxing. "Nothing like the boy who stole all of my good Pinot Grigio at Blar's fourteenth birthday party."

Chuck smirked. "Actually, it was the Rosé. I mixed it in with my soda."

"_Charles_," Eleanor scolded.

"Regardless," Harold continued, "You're a better man for it all."

Chuck sucked in a breath. "Not yet. But I will be." He sat up, turning to face Harold, Cyrus, and Eleanor with careful eyes. "I'd like permission to marry your daughter, this week, before her surgery."

"Chuck, there's hardly time – "

"No, there's always been time, and I've wasted so much of it battling her and fighting her and running away. But Blair is the _only _one. And if anything were to happen, if she were to – " He let out a ragged breath. "I need her to be my wife."

They were quiet for a moment, Eleanor and Harold engaged in a silent conversation from across the table. Cyrus gave him a nod of encouragement, biting into his scone. Upstairs, they heard the faint echoes of Blair barking orders at Dorota.

Finally, it was Eleanor who drew in a long sigh. "Charles, I wasn't born yesterday. If I said no, the two of you would just come up with some elaborate scheme to elope in the next two days."

Chuck nodded. "Probably."

Eleanor smirked, already pulling out her phone to call their event planner. "Then it's a good thing I'm saying yes."

:::

"Chuck, please," Blair whimpered. "I'm exhausted."

Chuck held her hands, guiding her through the cold. Blair bit back a shiver, curling into his side. "Relax, Waldorf. We're almost here."

"Where's _here_?"

Chuck rolled his eyes, carefully untying the silk scarf covering her eyes. Blair blinked twice, looking so young in her huge coat. She glanced around her, clutching Chuck's arm. In front of her was the entirety of Manhattan, lights twinkling in a silent chorus on the skyline. She glanced at him, that grin on his face, before staring out at the view again.

"We're on The Empire State Building," she stated, her eyes narrowed.

"We are," he agreed, pulling her over the bannister. Blair bit her lip as Chuck reached for her collar under the coat, fingers skimming over the silver chain hanging around her neck.

"Chuck – "

"I should have done this three years ago," he breathed, fingers running over her cheeks, to her chin, then down to her waist. "I loved you then, I love you now, and I loved you before I ever even knew that I did."

It was then that Blair lost her breath because Chuck Bass was dropping to kneel on one knee in front of her. He reached up to unhook the chain from her neck, sliding the ring off of it.

"Please don't," Blair insisted. Chuck frowned, the sting of rejection running through him. She steadied herself. "I can't give you what you want, Chuck." Blair took his hand, placing it right over her stomach. He frowned at her before realizing what she was doing, what she was saying. "My body might not – we might not be able to have – "

"_You're _what I want," Chuck said. "It's you and me, Chuck and Blair. You're all the family I need. The rest – we can take it on together."

Blair swallowed. "Okay."

"Blair," he took a breath, "Cornelia Waldorf, will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Bass – "

"Waldorf-Bass."

"Mrs. _Waldorf_-Bass." He grinned, slipping the ring onto her finger. It was a size too big for her now that she was so thin, so he held it there. He looked up at her, the devilish gleam in his eye faltering as he bit his lip. "Will you marry me?"

"_Yes_."

She said it again and again as he picked her up, sweeping her right off her feet. She whispered the affirmation into the crook of his neck, remembering the teenaged boy who'd once sworn that he could never be her prince.

And now –

"I love you," Chuck murmured reverently, slipping his hands under her coat and wrapping around her tiny waist. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"_Bass_," Blair giggled.

"For every time I couldn't say it," he amended. "For every time I _hurt _you. I just want – "

"It's okay," she breathed, hands falling down the sides of his face, down to the nape of his neck. "We have the rest of our lives to – " Blair paused, weighing the words, flinching at what they meant. "We have – we have right _now _to make up for that."

:::

If any two people could plan an elite wedding in only forty-eight hours, it was Chuck and Blair. She was bed-ridden for the most part, barking orders into her cell phone, signing off on flowers and centerpieces and mass invitations and –

And it all left her rather breathless.

It was then that Chuck would sweep in, cell phone practically attached to his ear. "No. I said _no_. Tell them I'm Chuck _Bass_."

They had rallied their usual troops, and some new ones too. Serena and Dan were in charge of the venue, although Blair could hardly believe that Humphrey was back in everyone's good graces. She'd finally given in with a long sigh. _As long as something is done about that hair for the photographs. _Nate would use his connections from The Spectator to sort out the guest list. And, somehow, others had thrown themselves into the mix. Georgina and Jack bonding over cake samples, Ivy Dickens mulling over dresses with Blair.

Everything was falling into it's own twisted place. But Chuck couldn't help but notice the eyes lingering on Blair, Humphrey bringing her movies like it was the last time he would ever do it, tears brimming in Serena's eyes when she passed their picture on Blair's wall.

Everyone was saying a silent goodbye, and it was ripping Chuck apart from the inside. _A surgery that could save her._

_A surgery that could kill her._

And it would kill him, too.

:::

"Oh, B," Serena breathed, eyes meeting her best friend's in the vanity mirror. Blair glanced up at smiled. "You look like Audrey." Blair's face brightened, and she smoothed out the front of her dress. It was beige with traces of black tangled in the lace and silk. It's sleeves were long, but it dropped low on her back, fitting her slim figure perfectly.

"I couldn't wear white because…" Blair rolled her eyes. Serena laughed, coming over to help Blair pin up the rest of her short hair.

"We called it, didn't we?" Serena giggled. "At Lily's wedding."

"A girl can only _dream_," Blair smirked, remembering. She slipped a thin Swarovski band onto her head, coloring her lips with a nude lipstick.

"Are you ready?" Serena asked, helping Blair up. "Are you going to be able to walk without – "

"If one more person tells me to bedazzle a wheelchair and roll down the aisle, I'll lose it," Blair warned. But her expression softened when she pulled Serena in for a hug. "Don't worry. He won't let me fall."

And he didn't.

After she embraced Harold and Cyrus, Chuck and Blair walked down the aisle hand in hand, his eyes on her as they made their way through. The Grand Hall of The Pierre was adorned as any ballroom would have been in the 1950's, black drapes and fuzzy lights, bridesmaids dressed in noir and groomsmen in matching tuxedos. She'd watched the classics time and time again, had fantasized about this very moment for years. And now there she was, standing beside Chuck like she was Scarlet and he was Rhett.

But this was real.

This was _Chuck and Blair_, long at last.

:::

_Blair, I vow to indulge you in your Audrey obsession until we're both old and gray and we know the script so well that we can act it out ourselves. I vow to never look back from the day I first told you that I love you, and I vow to always be the one to say it first. I vow to live up to the way you've always loved me. I promise you that I will never back down from our fights – I know how they keep you entertained. But I'll always be there in the morning – peonies in hand. I vow to be strong for you, but I promise that I need you more than I've ever needed anything. I promise you that time cannot touch our story, our love – a great love. Because it will_ always_ be you._

_Chuck, I promise that I'll never let you forget that boy with the scarf or the girl with the headband. I vow to be your partner in crime, your lover, your best friend, your family. And I will never forget how hard it was for you to give me your heart. And so I will guard it with my life. I vow to fix you when you're broken, and I vow to be the hand that pulls you back up. And I promise to love you, Chuck Bass – for every stubborn flaw, for every beautiful part of you. You'll never be alone again._

:::

And that night, once the toasts were raised, the gifts were given, and the guests trickled out, Chuck worshipped his wife. He rediscovered every inch of her, nose skimming her skin, hands cradling her head, lips whispering against her neck. He was gentle, so careful, handling her like the porcelain she was, his touch like the sweetest air she'd ever breathed. Her eyes rolled back, the pain in her head dulling to a blinding pleasure.

They gasped, cried, pushed, pulled, breathing each other in, surviving together, existing for one another.

And then they fell into oblivion, his cheeks damp, her neck catching his tears. Blair's fragile fingers tracing over his shoulder blades, counting his ragged breaths in her ear, the ones that echoed her own.

And they slept that way, clinging to each other, writing the moment into their dreams, imprinted into their memories. Wishing that, for once, things really did last forever.

:::

_Three Weeks Later_

Chuck didn't know what day it was, what month, or what year. He was numb, sick with sleep deprivation. His back was stiff, his face stuck to the itchy white sheets below him. His vision was a haze, his thoughts highlighted with the beeps of hospital monitors and nurses humming under their breath. Time passed and the world spun, but he was frozen to that very spot. He held a small hand in his, his forehead on her arm, just above the IV.

And just as he'd made her wait so long ago, he waited too.

He waited for those eyes to open, for those lips to spew out a snarky remark, for her cheeks to flush in that familiar rosy hue.

Every morning, Dorota bustled in, spoke to her like they were getting ready for any other day. She left macaroons for her, fresh orange juice that went untouched. On her way out, she'd squeeze Chuck's shoulder in sympathy, just like the rest of them did. Serena with magazines, Lily with flowers, Nate with chocolates, Dan with novels. They all came, and they all left.

But Chuck stayed.

He'd already found his home.

:::

It was a Wednesday when Chuck woke up with a start, head darting up, glancing around the dark room. It was nearly silent, the only noise coming from the quiet banter of the attendants outside. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, still holding Blair's in the other. It was then that he lost his breath, eyes widening.

Because she was holding his, too.

Brown eyes were on him, brow furrowed, breathing through the oxygen hooked to her nose. She glanced down at their hands, watched his breath falter as he broke down in front of her. There were tears in his eyes, and he reached up to wipe them away just as quickly.

"Blair," he whispered, standing to lean over her, hold her cheeks in his hands. His lips were on her nose, her chin, her forehead. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay."

She parted her lips, took a shaky breath. "I'm okay."

"I love you," he murmured, nearly incoherently. "My _beautiful_ wife."

It was then that Blair tensed in his arms, pulling back to look up at him. "Your…who?"

Chuck froze, choking on his words. She didn't – this couldn't be – not after –

"_Blair_."

She held his gaze for a long, torturous moment. And then the crease between her eyebrows faded, her cheeks dimpling as her lips curled into a wide grin. She reached up to pull his face down and capture his lips in a kiss that left _him _breathless.

When she pulled away, her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Got you, Bass."

:::

_On 78__th__ and Fifth, there stands a stunning building overlooking the entire Park. The entire city if you're on the right floor. Walk in, and you're transported to an entirely new era, a time of glitz and class and glamour. Have breakfast in the Tiffany Tea Room, or discover yourself with a dance in Victrola's burlesque club. Or maybe you can try your hand at poker in the casino styled after Monte Carlo, or rent out a luxury limo ride across the Upper East Side with the girl you love._

_Rent out any room except for the penthouse suite, where Mr. and Mrs. Bass are currently battling over wall colors and room rates – an argument that will surely end under the sheets. And if you listen closely enough, you'll hear two pairs of feet running through the halls, Audrey and Henry Bass, laughing and scheming in the style of two other wicked brunettes so long ago. _

_And sometimes tables are turned, and lessons must be learned. Sometimes the long years are worth the best day of your life. And you realize that the pain was worth being able to call her your wife._

_And when it all falls down, and it's all lost, life is that much sweeter when you're finally found._

**Fin.**


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